


Only Once

by Fuzziestpuppy



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 4
Genre: F/M, From His POV, M/M, Not Entirely Sure What This Is: Part Two, Pagan’s Poetry, Poetry, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuzziestpuppy/pseuds/Fuzziestpuppy
Summary: Something has to change...or nothing can.  And nothing ever will.
Relationships: (past relationship), Ajay Ghale/Pagan Min, Ishwari Ghale/Pagan Min
Comments: 14
Kudos: 10





	Only Once

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to say thanks for all the support I have from all the wonderful people in my life. From family and friends and betas (often the same!) and the folks who like my writing well enough to subscribe to me, and those who took the time to leave a comment or a kudos, and to every reader who gave something I wrote a chance...I'm just so incredibly lucky to have all of you in my life.
> 
> But special thanks go to [BunnyMoss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyMoss/pseuds/BunnyMoss), who is forever patient with my bouncing endless ideas off her, and who has also offered up the gift of more than one great title by this point; something for which I will be forever grateful, because I really do suck at them. You're always the one cheering me on, and I appreciate you more than words can ever say.

***

  
Once, she loved a boy

who’d never had much of it, who

until then, had never really known.

And he fell at her feet

like the rain loves

the thirsty earth; after all it must,

since it can’t seem to stay away.  
  


First, and I thought,

the last.

The only.

But still, even now, I feel as if the world turns

only because it must as well; merely biding its stubborn time

until offered the chance to double back on itself.

A mockery that proves me a liar

even to myself.

Because now, I love a boy

who always belonged to her, and once

just once, to me as well.

A young king, at whose feet I fall

helplessly, with one more echo, with old knots furled and welded

shut. Drawn tight by too much,

too high; hot sun and thin, burning air after being

left out in the rain.

And I,

down on my knees yet again; this time a supplicant, an anchorite

a fool that picks stubbornly at bare knots, the edges of holes, and moves forward

haltingly…but not altogether forgetting how. No, not quite yet.

So fuck it. Let the world look as it likes.

For without that, I know nothing can ever change,

and never will

or ever could.

Bare; so let him look his fill.

And then after that,

perhaps, just maybe,

there can be more than only the once

for me.

End

***

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments/critiques/suggestions welcome!


End file.
